


circuitry

by raffinit



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Mild Kink, Mild Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: She gets under his skin in more ways than one.





	circuitry

He slumps down onto the edge of his bed, shoulders sagging heavily with the long breath that escapes him. All of his body aches. He can't remember the last time nothing had hurt, but tonight it's almost unbearable. It's a cruel reminder of his age is what it is, and Joel feels himself grimacing as he rolls his shoulders and flexes his hands against the threadbare covers. The springs of the mattress are practically digging into his ass, threatening to pop out and kill him in his sleep, and he wonders if it isn't a kinder mercy.

 

He tugs at his shirt half-heartedly, shrugging it off and tossing it into a pile on the floor. It's too much effort to get up again; he just tugs at his belt and lets it fall to the ground to same. Joel lays back with a sigh, feet planted on the cold floor.

 

His eyes drift shut, breaths slow and heavy as he feels his body melting into the thin mattress. With one hand he reaches to scratch at an itch on his chest, fingernails scraping across dark hair and dry skin as he drags his nails from his neck down to his ribs. A sharp, bone-deep hurt travels along his side, and Joel winces.

 

Palpating the skin gingerly, he figures a couple of bruised ribs are better than a bullet. Most of their drops end without bloodshed. Today wasn’t one of those days.

 

He exhales heavily, continues sliding his hand along the dark growth of hair spread over his chest and belly. The muscles under his skin tighten at the chill of his hand as he chases after the phantom prickling spreading over his body. He feels the heat of his skin radiating into his palm, the dense warmth from just below the waistband of his jeans. 

 

He tugs at the button idly, pops it with a flick and scrubs his palm roughly over the weight of his cock pressed up against the seam of his underwear. Joel’s eyes pop open in the dim light, staring up at the cracked and flaking paint on the ceiling. He rolls his lips inwards, biting down hard to taste the copper tang of blood as he brushes his fingers lower on his lap, catching over the teeth of his zipper and pushing the slider down.

 

He palms his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear - tighty whities, a generous gift from Tess a while back -, grasping the base of it and stroking up over the head. He closes his eyes again and tries to imagine a slideshow of pretty girls. With long legs, with dark eyes and red lips and nice breasts. His hand moves on its own volition as he focuses on the images conjured up; petite girls with pale skin and a taste for big things between their lips and between their thighs. Pretty smiles and dark hair, with the faintest spread of freckles across the ridge of her cheekbones and nose, maybe -

 

Joel grunts, shoving his underwear down low enough to get skin-on-skin contact. As soon as his hand wraps tight around the shaft, his cock jolts, pearly drops gathering at the head that he slicks his hand in. It’s rough and quick - he’s not here to fantasize and edge himself to it, he just wants sleep, wants to feel like everything matters a little less for a little while. 

 

He cups his balls with his free hand, squeezing just hard enough for him to feel something a little further from pain. His cock throbs hard, pressed warm and dribbling onto his belly, smeared over the dark, coarse hair there as he pushes and pulls, squeezes at the base and twists up along the shaft. He thinks of girls of every kind; brunettes, blondes, redheads -- girls from faded memories of Hustlers and Playboys and internet videos on his phone, and yet somehow his thoughts always come back to dark hair, pale skin, and freckles. A lithe figure with full breasts, strong thighs that clutch his as she rides him, a smile slow and sensuous and dry on thin, pretty lips as he curls fingers into her hair and pulls the bandana from it --

 

Sweat builds and lingers over his skin, prickling through the fine hairs as he forces down a tight swallow. With gritted teeth he bites down on a groan, ass pressed hard into the mattress. He can’t help the way his hips push up against his hand, chasing his release with hard, frantic strokes. It’s not wrong to think about her, he doesn’t think. They’ve had their fair share of encounters together; he fucked her just a couple days ago, right against the countertop in his kitchen.

 

He thinks Tess would be flattered more than anything. She likes knowing how  _ dedicated  _ he is to her; how much she can reduce him to with a simple curl of her lip.

 

So he leans back, lets his head drop down onto the bed again, and starts working over his cock with slower, steadier pulls. 

 

He imagines her mouth on him. Tess has a mouth on her in more ways than one, and he likes the way her lips wrap around his cock when the mood strikes her. Likes to remember the wet heat of it, the expert way she knows how to work her tongue on the underside of his shaft, the way she lavishes his balls with attention. It's as much of a rush to her as it is for him - being on her knees, yet having him by the balls. She could ask him for the world, and he'd get her the moon to go with it when she's working one hand over his cock, the other squeezing his balls and her mouth tight over the head.

 

A groan pulls from his throat despite himself, and Joel lets himself hear it as he rocks his hips up into his hands harder. He imagines fucking her -- throwing her over the back of the couch like he'd done last week and fucking her into oblivion. He imagines the feel of her skin in his hands, the soft curves belying hard muscle underneath; the dips of those dimples above her ass that he loves pressing his thumbs into when he's making her scream. Pictures her pressed face down, ass up, and begging him for more, whining for less. The push and pull of teeth and nails and bodies colliding together in a desperate chase for something other than pills and bullets and scotch.

 

He feels his balls draw up tight; his cock's so hard it hurts, so he eases off pressure around the head and focuses on slicking his cock with both hands. He's barely even moving his hands now, only thrusting his hips in slow, almost idle arches up. He licks his lips and tastes the rust of his blood dried over cracked lips, and remembers the times when Tess needed a little extra help on first weeks of the month. When her clit gets so sensitive that all he has to do is pin her down with his thumb pressed hard into it. Feels her hips grinding up into him until he kisses the shudders off her lips. He lets out another choked sound, coming out in a stilted croak of words - "oh, Christ -"

 

He thinks of pushing in deep inside her, thinks of feeling her hot, velvet walls gripping his cock as he empties inside her, pulsing hard and thick and fast. Imagines rubbing her belly and pinching her tits and telling her how big she'll get with his baby.

 

Hidden fantasies. Thoughts buried deep, so very deep into the furthest reach in his mind. Words and thoughts he’d never dare bring to light, but in the safety of his bed, locked tight behind his teeth, he lets these fantasies grow.

 

Imagines the sounds of her whimpers and moans as she turns over, sees in his mind's eye the smear of his seed on the inside of her thighs, over her folds fucked pink and open. Thinks about the way she'd kiss him after, deep and long and slow and full of things they never said. Never needed to say.

 

He feels it smouldering in his belly, tightening over the muscles in his thighs and belly and hips as his cock leaks with earnest over his fingers. He squeezes down over the head, focusing entirely on the sensation of his hand, squeezing tight -

 

"Tessa," he moans, mouth slack and tendons in his neck taut. 

 

" _Right here, big guy._ "

 

It slams into him hard, wrecking over his body even as Joel's bolting upright in alarm. His cock spurts in thick white ropes onto his hand, throbbing and pulsing in time with the way he clenches and unclenches his fist around it. He reaches down and cups his balls hard as he forces hazy eyes open wider and whips his head to the door. Tess is standing in the doorway of the room, arms folded and face giving nothing away.

 

When his balls are finally drained, he feels the rest of his strength leave with it as he sags back into the bed with a ragged breath. "Jesus, Tess. A little warnin' woulda been nice."

 

"And ruin the show?" She shakes her head, arms still folded and leaning against the doorway. Her eyes rove over the length of him spread out on the bed, lingering most on the mess he'd left. Smeared over the dark hair on his belly, gleaming in the dim light; his cock resting heavy as ever against his belly button, even as spent as he is.

 

"You could've called," she tells him lightly, pushing off the door and stepping slowly into the room. She lets her arms fall to her sides, reaching out to trail thin fingers over the edge of the covers. She circles around to him languidly, hovering at his side and taking in the sight of him the same way she sometimes admires a plentiful haul. Predatory and smug. "What kind of partner would I be if I wasn't ready to lend a hand?"

 

Joel smothers a groan in his throat, one large hand spread over his cock self-consciously. "It wasn't --"

 

She's hovering over him suddenly, dark hair in a curtain around their heads as he stares up at her wordlessly. There's a sparkle in her eye that makes his belly warm again, but Joel doesn't think he can go again for the night, as much as he wants to. She lowers her head down to him, eyes soft and hooded as she kisses him slow and sensuous and deep - almost the same as he had imagined. "I like watching you," she purrs, teeth nipping at his lip before she kisses and bites her way along the shape of his jaw, down over the thundering pulse in his neck. "Like hearing you say my name like that, like you can't help it." 

 

She scrapes her nails down his chest harshly, and Joel bares his teeth in a hiss at the sting of them. 

 

Her mouth is suddenly between his legs, breath hot against sensitised skin.

 

She cleans him up fastidiously; licks and sucks and kisses over the taut lines of his belly, nuzzles against the seam of thighs and licks the salt of his sweat and his come from his skin. His cock twitches in time with his thighs, oversensitive and spent, but Tess does nothing more than lick along the length of him, getting at every bit of his come that she can. She even licks over his balls, sucking them clean and kissing them lightly, and Joel can pride himself in the fact that he's not as soft as he was by the time she's finished.

 

She pulls back, licking her lips and wiping it with the back of her hand. She lets out a low hum in her throat, tasting the heady salt of him on her tongue, eyeing his cock with fond amusement at the way the shaft is starting to pull away from his belly. "You're like a teenager, I swear."

 

He entertains her with a chuff, tugging her up to kiss her again. "This stud's done for the night, I'm sorry to say." He slides his hands up under her shirt, palming smooth skin  and delicate bones.

 

"Ain't too tired to put my mouth to work, though."


End file.
